Imagine if you weren't who everyone thought you were.
Imagine you weren't weak or unloved like others tried to make you believe. Imagine you were strong, and you could stand up to your bullies and pummel them into the ground with only minimal effor...
I stared blindly before me, brandishing my wooden staff. Every one of my senses was alert, waiting for the next strike, though my eyes weren't much use. A bead of sweat rolled down the nape of my neck and onto my back uncomfortably, but I ignored it. I was used to discomfort.
I heard it then, a soft plunk I wouldn't have caught if I wasn't stretching my hearing senses to their limit. I twirled my staff in the appropriate direction and it safely thunked into the wood, avoiding making impact with me. Exhaling slightly, I waited for the next one.
It came seconds later. I deflected that, but too soon another had replaced the attack, competing for the honor of sinking into my flesh.
I controlled my heart beat, my breathing, everything that wasn't necessary to me right that moment, and poured all my focus into defending myself from the attacks which seemed to be coming from all directions.
This seemed to go on for hours, although I knew only minutes had passed. Then, suddenly, they stopped. I strained my senses, staying on the alert so as not to be caught unawares.
Instead of the soft whoosh of an object flying through the air, a blaring sound rang through the space, signalling the end of the exercise. With my free hand, I pulled the blindfold off my head and studied the object I held in my hands.
My staff was riddled with knives, poking out from every single inch of space on it. It now resembled a pincushion. I'd avoided the area around my hands for the most part, but a shiny knife was currently stuck between two of my fingers. A few I'd managed to knock away were scattered around my feet.
I was thumbing the knife hilt between my fingers when I felt the next attack. I glanced up sharply to see the shiny weapon darting towards me.
There was no time to think. I dropped the staff and quickly clapped my palms around the end of the blade, stopping its approach. The pointy end was a centimetre away from my head.
The feeling of fire-ants crawling over my skin was minimal but present. I considered the object for a moment then called out, "That's cheating!"
The door of the transparent rectangular box in which I was being held opened, and Gavin poked his head in. He gave me a roguish grin.
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(Gavin, a.k.a. The Sinner)
"You can't cheat if you make the rules," he said sardonically. I rolled my eyes.
"You can't just change the rules in the middle of the exercise," I shot back, walking towards him.
"Buzzer means 'it's over'. I was done. You shouldn't have thrown this at me," I waved the dagger in his face.
His lip quirked to the side unrepentantly, and he stepped away from the door so I could pass.
"Don't you know it's never really over? Besides, you shouldn't put too much basis on assumption. What if things don't go according to plan? You could get killed."
